


Runs Hot

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Denial, First Kiss, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 06:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17381438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Robb does not know why the king's brother came to Winterfell. He learns... well, something.





	Runs Hot

**Author's Note:**

> Set in an AU where Renly visited Winterfell with Robert et al., natch.

He's a strange man, Robb thinks as he sups his soup, watching the king's brother charm the serving girls and his father's guards all the same, handsome and witty, looking like he could not care less what anyone watching might think of him. The room is noisy and full of smoke, it takes Robb a good deal of effort to even keep his eyes on the younger Baratheon, but he can't seem to stop trying. He is handsome, of course he his; Father has always said King Robert was a maiden's dream in his youth, and Lord Renly is meant to be the spitting image of him – but it's not that. Of course not.

“...and then she said to me – Robb? Robb!”

Robb turns his head, and suddenly remembers Theon, to his side, his grin taking on a nervous twitch, as it always does when he thinks he hasn't gotten enough of Robb's attention. “Hmm?” Robb feels a flush coming to his cheeks, which he blames on the smoke. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Theon snorts, with just a pinch too much genuine annoyance in it. “I was telling you about my latest trip to Winter Town. There was this girl...”

Unfortunately, Robb ends up tuning out Theon's story again. He gets distracted by Lord Renly, and the Tyrell boy, who has even less reason to be here than the king's younger brother. The Tyrell – Loras, Robb thinks his name is – whispers something in Renly's ear, which makes Renly laugh, loud and boisterous. No-one else at his table could hear it, but somehow, they all start laughing too – for Lord Renly's laugh is infectious. His strange-coloured eyes (they looked blue out in the snow, but green by the fireside) dance with delight.

“...there's no bloody point, is there?”

Robb blinks, realising that Theon is still talking. “I'm sorry, what?” he asks, and Theon sighs in exasperation.

“I said, there's no bloody point in me telling you this story, is there?” he asks. “You're too distracted. What, has the king brought the one maid in the seven kingdoms you fancy?”

Robb feels his blush worsening. _No, it's not that._ “Fuck off, Theon,” he mumbles, hoping his parents won't overhear his foul language.

Theon just laughs, in that smug way he does whenever he thinks he's been proven right. Robb sneaks another glance towards Lord Renly. He is leaning up toward Ser Loras, whispering his reply in turn. Whatever it is, it makes them both smile. It looks like it belongs only to them.

Robb stands up.

“I'm going to take a walk outside,” Robb says, to whoever may be listening. His mother frowns, perhaps thinking he's off to run to Jon – which normally he would be, but right now he feels the urge to be alone. “I'm feeling rather hot,” he tells her.

Theon looks confused, but he lets Robb go without a word, and with only the slightest noise of disappointment.

* * *

Robb has been wandering the courtyard, finding it emptier than he expected – he tries to make himself a brother to the men, but the men don't necessarily want to be brothers to him – for a few minutes when he stumbles upon a figure. “Hello?”

The man turns his head, and Robb instinctively bows his own. “Your Grace.”

“I'm not a grace,” he points out, and Robb blinks. “If Robert was king when I was born, perhaps, but not as is.” _Oh, of course,_ Robb thinks, remembering who this man is, and _who_ this man is. His mother did drill them all on the protocol for addressing the king's family, as such things come so naturally to her, but he forgot it. _Damn_. But Lord Renly sees the worried look upon his face, and laughs. “Relax, my lord, I think it's a bunch of horseshit too. You can call me Daisy and I promise, you will lose no limbs because of it.”

_Oh._ Robb lets himself relax a little, tries to return Lord Renly's smile. “And what if I call you Ethel?”

“Oh, that'll cost you a hand, easy.”

Robb laughs at that, letting himself enter the prince's – does he count as a prince? – orbit. “I'll have to watch myself,” he says. Lord Renly, eyes looking blue as the sky out in the darkness, looks thrilled to be sharing his company.

From inside comes a loud cry, the sound of glass breaking. They both turn to look at it instinctively, before returning to one another. Robb feels the ice cold hit him, harder than usual. “What are you doing here?” he asks softly.

Renly shivers then, burrows into his cloak – a deep sea green with gold thread, and ermine trimming. “Robert was teasing me, telling me my fancy cloak might be great for keeping up with King's Landing fashion, but would do nothing to protect me from the northern cold. I felt the need to prove a point.” He meets Robb's eye sheepishly, still shivering. “I may have made a mistake.”

Robb stops a second, and then, instinctively, reaches for his own cloak. “Here.” Before he knows it he is draping the thick pelts over Lord Renly's shoulders, who raises an eyebrow. The wind hits him and he remembers, _he_ will get cold now. But, he tells himself, he is used to it. He has lived in the North all his life (although he was not born there).

“You know, I'm not a maid,” says Renly, with a smile that tells Robb he's not ungrateful, not really. “Chivalry made no demand you do that.”

Robb finds himself blushing deeper. Lord Renly is right; he's not a woman, and so why would Robb feel the urge to treat him as such? It's not a question he wants to dwell on too much. “Chivalry may not demand it,” he says, “but is that a reason one man shouldn't be kind to another?”

A pause, and then, Renly smiles wider. “Well in that case,” he says, “thank you. For the kindness.”

Robb can't quite help grinning.

Silence falls between them a moment, before Robb's thoughts catch up with him. “That's not quite what I meant though,” he says, a little embarrassed. “I asked: what are you doing here?”

“...Oh.” Lord Renly tilts his head to the side. “What's it to you?”

Immediately, Robb straightens his spine. Obviously, the king's brother is a few years older than him – at least five – but he's also a few inches shorter. “I'm Heir to Winterfell,” he says. “What isn't it to me?”

And Lord Renly smile widens, but now, there is something sad in it. “Of course. You really do want to impress them, don't you? Your mother and father, I mean.”

Robb is caught off-guard, and left reeling. “Yes,” he says before he thinks it through. But then he is committed. “I mean, of course. They are my parents. This is my father's castle, his legacy, and I stand to inherit it. I have to make him proud. I mean...” he pauses. “You say that like it's a bad thing.”

“Oh no, not at all; I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. It's just...” he sighs. “I gave up on that long ago.”

Robb isn't sure how to react to that. He remembers suspicious behaviour on this man's part – showing his father a picture of something or other, he's not sure what. He wants to know what could have brought him here. But when Renly turns and looks into through the window again, he looks terribly sad, and Robb can't help but feel sorry for him.

“My lord?”

Lord Renly turns back to him, grinning. “Ah, forgive me, Lord Stark. We guests ought to be merry, shouldn't we? You Northerners need all the merriment you can get.”

Robb should be offended, but he isn't. Lord Renly seems to have a point, and maybe it's selfish of him, but he craves what the man promises. “I was just concerned, that's all,” he says. “You seemed upset.”

“...You are a sweet boy, aren't you?”

He isn't sure how to respond to that, and while he stumbles for an answer, Renly ties his cloak around his own throat, punctuating the words. “I was told as much. Your lady mother is so proud of you. Your father, well, he doesn't talk too much, but I think he is too.”

Robb blushes again, but he is pleased. Although he does not know why a perfect stranger would say such things.

“But something bothers you, doesn't it?” Renly asks, and Robb's heartbeat quickens. _What does he mean?_ A terrible voice at the back of his head whispers, perhaps he knows exactly what this man means. Renly turns and looks through the window once more. “The Greyjoy boy,” he says, making Robb jump. “He's very fond of you, isn't he?”

Robb's eyebrows fly off into his hair, and he trips over his tongue a fair few seconds. “That – I – I mean... what of it?” he finally gets out, before he slams his jaw shut.

Renly also raises an eyebrow, but on the whole, he seems far less surprised. “Nothing. I mean nothing by it.” A pause. “Nothing you don't want me to.” Another. “I promise, the last thing I'm going to do is judge you.”

He struggles for a response, but somehow, nothing comes to mind. _Who is this man, and what does he know about me?_ While Robb stumbles, Renly comes even closer. Robb feels a gentle hand laid upon his side.

And like that, lips meet his own.

_What is he doing?_ he thinks immediately, panic flaring up in his chest. But he doesn't step away. Lord Renly's mouth is sweet and gentle, inviting Robb in but somehow, not demanding anything. He worries that someone might look out the hall window and see, but somehow, that very important concern seems very far away. A noise, needy and desperate, slips from between his lips, and he opens his mouth, asking for – something. A spark runs up his spine, something he doesn't think any maid as ever earned from him. He darts his tongue forward, all but begging entrance to Lord Renly's mouth, lost in the moment and wanting...

Lord Renly steps back.

“Forgive me, my lord,” he says with an apologetic smile, while Robb is still dumbstruck. “You are a beautiful young man. If I could, I would like to...” he trails off, and Robb blushes again, imagining all the ways that sentence could end. “But I know Ned Stark, and I'm sure he would be most aggrieved if I despoiled his firstborn.” Robb hurriedly averts his eyes, his face going from flushed to red as blood. Lord Renly is right. Fuck, what was he _thinking_?

Renly snorts. “Let it not be said the king's brother does not know the rules of hospitality.” Robb barely looks up in time to see Lord Renly unlacing his own cloak, handing it back to him.

With that, Renly smiles at him once more, and disappears into the night – back to the Tyrell boy, no doubt. Robb shudders, and pulls the cloak close to his chest.

He feels cold in the night air, and desperately does not want to believe he has just learned something about himself.

 


End file.
